


The Sounds of Machines

by yourrhinestoneeyes



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Skwisgaar blaming himself for things, hospital rooms, post doomstar, sad things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourrhinestoneeyes/pseuds/yourrhinestoneeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skwisgaar isn't fond of hospitals, but no rational human being really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sounds of Machines

The beeping of machines seemed deafening in an other wise close to silent room. Skwisgaar hated hospitals, but that was cliché and most rational human beings hated hospitals. It was worse when you knew the person in the hospital, depending on the situation depended on how anxious the places could make you. He thought about times his mom would drink too much and land herself in the hospital, the occasional violent date she would have that ended up mugging her. There was almost nothing worse than being a child all alone sitting by your parent while they lay bruised and broken hooked up to machines.

Well maybe this moment competed with that.

He brushed his thumb over the back of the younger musician's hand. He could hardly even look at him, he just stared down at their joined hands, because there was no safe place on his person to look. Each time Skwisgaar made himself look at Toki it made his chest hurt and his stomach felt full of knots. He couldn't handle it, he couldn't handle not knowing when his friend was going to wake up. Even just looking at the minor cuts on his fingers and his bruised knuckles made his stomach turn. His arms were littered with bruises, there were bigger ones all over his torso. His body was covered in cuts and bruises. His face was bruised up too, his left eye was bandaged up and the doctors still weren't saying just how bad that damage was at the moment. They wouldn't know a whole lot more until Toki woke up. Skwisgaar didn't want to know much at all. The doctors told them enough already; enough to make them feel twice as guilty, twice as ashamed, and twice as pissed at their dead ex guitarist. 

Skwisgaar risked it and glanced at his face. He felt tears fill his eyes and run down over his cheeks when he saw the tubes running out from his nostrils and the tube running out of his mouth. His skin was pale, it made the bruises and the year worth of starvation much more noticeable. It made the pain in Skwisgaar's stomach a thousand times worse than it already was, who knew that was possible?

He lifted the younger man's hand up and rubbed it against his cheek.

“Jag är ledsen, jag är ledsen att jag är så ledsen”

He had spent a week or longer saying that, repeating that both out loud and inside of his own head. Even before they had found Toki and Abigail he had been saying that, but then it had been to nothing but an empty room. Now there was somebody to apologize to, somebody who should rightfully hate him. 

He pressed his lips against his hand, he just wanted him to wake up. He wanted to be yelled at, he wanted to be hit and kicked. He deserved so many levels of Hell, he deserved every ounce of rage that his friend could throw his way. He feared what he would be like when he finally did wake up, he feared that he wouldn't be like how he used to be. He would never be like he used to be, this was their fault. They could have done something more to keep him away from Magnus, they could have gone to look for him sooner. It was just safer to assume he was dead though, that hurt less. It hurt less to just assume and to accept their close friends were dead, they were used to losing people that they let themselves care about. Skwisgaar hadn't wanted to feel false hope over that.

Who knew Toki and Abigail had still been alive though?

Skwisgaar didn't know within a year's time they would find them. In a year's time he would have his arm wrapped around his emaciated friend's waist, never thought he would be taking him by the hand and running out of a deserted building with him. He just assumed he would never see him again, he would never get the chance to apologize for everything. He would never get the chance to explain himself to him, they had so much they needed to explain to one another. So many things they didn't understand that drove a knife between them, caused their relationship to waver and weaken over time. Skwisgaar didn't enjoy losing people that he let into his life, people who he hoped got him on some deeper level. Toki had sort of been that person, he had understood things about him; they had understood each other. They had seen and learned so much in just one day when they had met, listening to one another play guitar that day had done more for them than a million conversations. There was just an underlying tension that grew and grew over time, they were both equally to blame for it.

It didn't matter now and that was the saddest and funniest part of this whole thing. None of the competition, the arguments, the fights, or the screaming mattered now. It meant nothing, it was just wasted time. Time wasted with Toki yelling that he hated him, time wasted with Toki whispering and moaning that he hated him so much though he arched into his every touch. Skwisgaar had spent so much frustrated time not able to return that sentiment, because he had never hated him, but he could never get to hear Toki say what he wanted to hear. He would have done anything to hear him say that he loved him. In their own fucked language maybe hate translated to that or maybe it was purely hate with added sex. 

He wanted to know when it had turned into that, when everything had turned complicated. He hated himself for allowing things to go that way, for just watching as he lost his closest friend. He noticed things getting worse between them, but he'd never been able to fix it. He didn't know how. He was too conceded, too anxious, too nervous, and too bad with people to really fix things. It had been easy to tell Pickles that just maybe Nathan could apologize and admit he fucked up, he could give advice like he knew what the Hell he was saying. While in reality he hadn't talked to his own best friend for months, nearly a year, because it was easier to let their friendship turn to something full of malice and broken hearts.

Skwisgaar needed him to wake up soon, he needed to know where things were between them. He wanted to see his eyes again, hear his voice, and just find out where things were going to be left for them. The silence of a hospital room and the sounds of machines was tearing him up inside. Too many memories related to hospitals, he just wanted his friend again. Even if Toki hated him and left the band, Skwisgaar just wanted to see him awake again. He wanted to know his friend, not the seemingly never ending list of terrible things that were wrong with him. It sickened Skwisgaar when he thought about the things the doctor had listed off, nobody should have to go through what he had been through. It wasn't right, it might not have been that bad if they had just found him sooner. He hated himself so badly for that.

His phone rang startling him, but he ignored it. That was the eighth time in the past hour alone, he wasn't going to answer it and hear Nathan tell him to leave. He knew he was spending too much time in the hospital, he knew nothing new was going to happen anytime soon. He knew that he hadn't eaten for nearly three days now and he hadn't even picked up his guitar, but he hadn't touched his guitar for over a year now. Looking at it sickened him, it didn't feel right; that was their bond. They communicated through music, because sometimes it was awkward or terrible when they communicated through speech. Skwisgaar could show him how sad he was, how much he cared about him, or how much he worried through music. They could share their pasts with each other through the music they played for one another when they were alone. That was a different time, somewhere far back before things started to change. 

Skwisgaar lay his head down on the bed, he hated hospital beds; they weren't comfortable. He nuzzled against the younger man's hand almost praying that he would move. He closed his eyes and thought about fingers going back through his hair, he used to like the way that his friend touched him. Skwisgaar had always been more than willing to be with him that way, they had a deeper bond. It nearly seemed natural for it to go that way, he always wanted to see just how far they could go. He missed the brunette being in his bed, he missed holding him in his arms. He had spent a whole fucking year in bed alone, nothing but a syringe or a pipe to keep him company. It hadn't taken much time to be sickened by himself, looking at himself in the mirror had become a disgusting chore. The drugs went from a way to forget his friend he loved and took for granted could possibly be dead to a way to forget how disgusting he had allowed himself to become in that time. He still craved being that obliviously drugged and out of his mind, he didn't know if he could handle all of this. He wasn't brave enough to deal with the stress or the guilt, he couldn't sleep, and he didn't want to leave Toki's side. Not again, he didn't want him to be alone anymore. He didn't deserve to be alone like that, not again; what if he woke up alone? Skwisgaar didn't want that, he wanted to be with him.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. He lifted his head and glanced back over his shoulder; Pickles stood there staring down at him, he couldn't look at Toki either.

“C'mon dude you can't be down here all the time.”

“Just until he wakes up.”

“We don't know when that's gonna be, this isn't good for you.”

“I don't want him to wake up alone.”

Skwisgaar waited for the drummer to argue with him or threaten to have Nathan drag him out of the room and force him to eat something, but he didn't. Pickles could understand it, he couldn't blame him for it. It made him feel like an asshole if he made his friend leave, besides Nathan had spent days in Abigail's hospital room by her side. Even now he was still with her, anything in the world he could do for her he was doing it.

“Just...Just fucking go to bed in your own room tonight, alright? It's outta my hands if Nathan comes down here and literally drags your Swedish ass out of this room.”

“Thanks Pickle”

“Yeah whatever....By the way this shit isn't your fault, stop beating yourself up over it.” The drummer commented as he turned and left the room quietly closing the door behind him.

Skwisgaar watched the door for a second or two. That was so much easier said than done.


End file.
